


Her Majesty's Misfortunate Maid and the Count

by Bookah



Series: Her Majesty's Misfortunate Maid [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Airships, Butlers, Humor, Maids, Steampunk, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookah/pseuds/Bookah
Summary: Violet Jessup is a simple maid aboard Her Majesty's Air Ship Mungo Park with a penchant for troublesome inventions. When a vampire is inadvertently brought aboard, will Violet fall victim to his bite? Rated T for archaic sordid language, slightly suggestive allusions, and even more horrible accents.





	Her Majesty's Misfortunate Maid and the Count

Her Majesty's Airship Mungo Park had a great assortment of almost famous people aboard. There were adventurers, explorers, soldiers, scientists, and fighters aplenty within her hull. These people were quite capable of handling anything that might come in their explorations of the world on behalf of Her Majesty. There was little conceivable that they might not be able to handle.

Violet Jessup, maid, was not one of these people. While she was aboard the ship, it was certainly not on account of her being particularly gifted at anything that one might read in the literature of the day. She was aboard solely in the position of service to the gallant crew.

As such, it was no surprise that she was left behind working in the airship when the brave band of assembled adventurers disembarked in the Carpathian Mountains. She would have been able to serve in no particular capacity as they verified the maps, charts, and ethnographic data that previous expeditions had retrieved. Nor was it surprising that she had been set to rather drudgerous work in their absence.

"Ms. Jessop," Alfred Jeeves, the Chief Butler of the "Mongo" had purred. "In the absence of the illustrious members of this ship’s compliment, I have a task for you. I expect only the utmost of attention to it, so I do expect that you shall… refrain… from your more foolish notions?"

He was referring to her enjoyment of the art of invention. Violet Jessup, though merely a maid aboard the vessel with only such amounts of education as needed for a serving lady, found herself with a fascination for clever designs. As such, it was not unusual for her to be found tinkering away at this or that when she could, a habit that the Chief Butler had in mind as being highly inappropriate and distinctly Not British. Clearly he had figured out that she was intending to spend the time while the crew was out engineering some new device intended to ease the lives of maids the world around.

She sighed and nodded her assent. "Yes, Mr. Jeeves."

"Good!" the Chief Butler smiled in a fashion devoid of humor. "Report to the kitchen. The silverware is far too dull. I wish to see every single piece sparkling by the time the expedition returns." His smile grew. "Every single piece."

Violet Jessup felt her heart plunge within her chest. "Mongo" had over 100 individuals aboard ship. For each of those there was enough diner service to be able to provide for three meals without needing a cleaning. The typical service setting included four forks, three spoons, and two knives. Each. Then there were the serving utensils for the staff waiting on table. Ladles, forks, knives, spoons… She was facing well over a thousand individual items, each of which had to sparkle by the time she was done. And she had no doubt whatsoever that she would not be receiving assistance with the task. She would be days at the task, and she very much suspected the company would be returning within a day at most.

"Sparkling!" The Chief Butler turned away to his duties, leaving Violet to her dismay. After a few moments of wallowing in her misery, however, the girl turned and headed down to the lower decks. She had just the idea.

Some time later the Chief Butler entered the kitchen. He looked around with a critical eye, suspicion oozing out of every pore with the sort of dignity suspicion could only gain through contact with a proper British butler. However, his suspicion began to shift into a palpable (though subtle, as he was a butler, and thus not given to unbecoming displays) surprise.

Violet was sitting demurely at a table with a little polish and a good rag, working away at a spoon. Beside her several hundred more spoons were neatly arrayed in their proper containers, sparkling and flashing with every vaguery of the light. Behind her on the counter tops, knives shone with an almost perfect sheen.

"I must say, Miss Jessop, I had some reservations about assigning you to this important task. Your common flights of fancy had me worried that you might fail in this task in a fashion not only unseemly, but in fact most spectacular. Your previous history certainly suggested that as the more likely outcome. However, I own that perhaps I owe you an apology."

Violet held her breath. She dared not utter a word. She had never heard so much as a kind word from the Chief Butler. To hear him actually suggest any degree of contriteness was utterly beyond her comprehension. She feared making any sound and causing an explosion in the man to make up for the near-human behavior.

Jeeves walked over and picked up one of the spoons. "Marvelous. Look at the shine." He peered closely. "I can even make out individual eyelashes in my reflection." He held the spoon up to the light, bouncing light beams about the room. "Yes… Yes. That is what I meant by sparkling. Miss Jessup, I congratulate you. It seems you may finally be learning to be a proper ma…"

The man paused, jaw locked into place as his eyes began to boggle. The vein on his forehead began to pulse. He lowered the spoon back into its place, pausing only long enough to use a kerchief to wipe away his fingerprint.

"Miss Jessup. How did you accomplish so much in so little time?"

Violet swallowed. "Well… You see, sir… I…"

"You built a little contraption."

Violet nodded her head quietly.

"And it has been polishing the silverware."

Violet nodded again.

"And you are no doubt convinced this little… thing of yours is working splendidly?"

She was, in fact, certain of exactly that. Or she had been right up until that moment. She said nothing.

"And just where is this monstrosity," Jeeves asked with an exaggerated patience.

"I... I'm not quite certain, sir." She hung her head.

With a small sigh that, coming from the Chief Butler, might as well have been a thunderous accusation, Jeeves stepped back from the table. He walked around it to stand next to Violet. "Kindly remove it from my leg, throw it out the airlock, and then come speak with me."

Violet nodded. She carefully unhooked the little clank from where it dangled just below the Chief Butler's pocket. She tried to ignore the fact that not only was Jeeves show so shiny the black leather almost looked white with reflected let, but the cloth of his pants leg was even sparkling like a well cared for saddle. She wasn't entirely certain how that had happened, as she'd never thought cotton could be shined.

With a sigh she walked out of the kitchen, hauling the device back down to the hold. She was certain it would just need a few tweaks later, and throwing it overboard would be a waste of parts anyway.

True to expectations, the expedition did indeed return that evening, just in time for a late dinner with freshly sparkly silverware. Even with time taken to get well and truly lambasted by the Chief Butler and assigned to grease trap cleaning duty for the next week, Violet was able to capitalize in how much the machine had polished and complete all the shining. Everyone at dinner was able to enjoy good and properly reflective place settings.

Violet was too busy sulking over her latest brush with the Chief Butler to really pay attention to the conversations. While the adventurers were busy discussing the ancient tomes they had found, coffin they had liberated, and gargoyles dispatched, she was unable to tear herself away from visions of kitchen traps needing degreasing. With a sigh she carried away her half-eaten plate of food, disposed of it, and headed to bed.

The next morning she woke early and performed the proper ablutions. Clean and dressed in a prim outfit, she left the little cabin she shared with another maid and began making her way up to the kitchen. With her extra duties on the grease traps she knew she'd need to get an early start on the day or she'd never get everything done. This meant a breakfast of leftovers from the night before.

Unfortunately for the maid, she hadn't made it halfway to the kitchen before arms reached out from the doorway to one of the many lounges aboard ship and pulled her inside. She started to shriek in surprise, but forestalled herself. The guests were still sleeping. It would be most rude of her to interrupt their sleep.

Pale white hands with long fingernails gripped her shoulders. She felt herself lifted into the air and carried into the depths of the darkened room. She was lowered back to her feet, and one hand slid down to wrap around her waist, trapping her arms at her sides while the other stroked the side of her cheek.

"Vhere is this place?" The voice was low, soft, and heavily accented. It reminded her of some of the Russian guests she'd had in the past, though that wasn't quite right. Perhaps something more Lithuanian? But she didn't recall any Lithuanians being aboard. She did think that one of the stokers was Estonian, but she wasn't completely certain about that, and she was fairly sure he wouldn't have such clean or well manicured nails. Maybe it was the

"AHEM!" The voice sounded in her ear again, quiet but for the fact the lips were probably only an inch from the lobe. "Vhen you are qvuite done vith your voolgathering, I asked you vhere ve are."

"Oh!" Violet gasped. "I'm terribly sorry. That was most rude of me. Please forgive me. I get lost in thought sometimes and…"

"Meh." The voice sounded dismissive. "You are forgiven, child. But you still have not answered my qvuestion. Vhere have I found myself?"

"Well, you're on Her Majesty's Airship Mungo Park, sir."

"Count."

Violet blinked. "Um… One… Two… Three…"

"No no no!" The voice sounded a touch annoyed. "My title. I am Count Radu Constantinescu of Romania."

"Oh! I see!" Violet nodded, then thought a moment. "Shouldn't that be Conte Radu Constantinescu?"

"Vhy?"

"Well, in Romanian it's 'Conte,' not 'Count'."

"The audience vouldn't know the difference."

"Oh, good point." Violet thought that imminently reasonable an argument. "Um… You're not going to ravish me, are you?"

"Vould that I could," the voice sighed. "Alas, I cannot."

Violet found herself spun about to face her attacker. The man standing before her in the gloom was rather tall and thin. He wore long black robes over an antique double breasted waistcoat with a silver watch. Beneath black brows his eyes pierced her with their intense blue, expressing a hunger that seemed to be for something far deeper than mere dalliance, and far more urgent.

"Look at me and know despair! For I am an ancient evil, cursed by God! Vhen I look upon a voman I know not the need for her body, but only a hunger for her blood. I am the great nephew of Count Vlad Dracul himself, and like him, the only use I shall have for you is to mesmerize you vith my eyes before drinking every drop of blood from your neck and leaving you dead. This curse vas placed upon my entire family as punishment for the blasphemes spoken by my great uncle and for his depraved acts of… of…" The Count stopped, a quizzical look on his face. "Vhy are you laughing?"

"I'm not *snrfl* laughing," Violet demurred, hiding her lips behind one hand. She fought to contain herself.

"This is serious, child," the vampire chided. "You do realize that I am about to suck your blood and slay you, do you not? And then I shall go throught this vessel drinking the blood of every voman abourd, young and old, leaving their dried husks as testament to my evils? You should be terrified. You should be running avay screaming and trying to get help. Vhy vould you not be attempting to flee?" He looked a tad downcast. "The struggling makes the meal taste better, you know."

"I'm *snrk* sorry," Violet replied, trying as hard as she could to remain proper. "It's just that…"

Count Radu sighed. "It's my accent, isn't it. I vent to therapy, but I never could get it. 'If two vitches vere vatching two vatches, vitch vitch vould vatch vich vatch?.' 'How much vood vould a vouldchuck chuck if a vould chuck could chuck vood?' It's terrible, I know."

Violet swallowed a chortle. "It's not that, really! I think you've done very vell. Well. You've done very well."

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Not very convincing, are you?"

"I'm sorry! It's not your accent, really! I apologize."

"Very vell. I accept." The vampire nodded graciously. "Vhat then?"

"Well," Violet demurred. "It's just that… well…"

Count Radu began to look impatient. "Get on vith it."

"You're sparkling."

There was a silence in the darkened compartment. Moments passed.

"I'm vhat?"

"Sparkling."

More silence.

"I am not sparkling."

"You are."

"I am not."

"I'm afraid you really are."

"No, I am not."

Violet nodded.

"Vampires do not sparkle."

"You do."

"Do not." "Do too." "Do NOT." "Do TOO." "NOT." "TOO." "NOT""TOO""NOT!"

Violet paused. She drew a deep breath. "I assure you, you most certainly are sparkling right now."

"Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't possibly be sparkling." Count Radu's visage looked threatening.

"I'm sorry, I know that you really don't want to believe this, but really, you are. If you went and looked at yourself in that mirror over there, you'd see."

Count Radu gave Violet a long look. "I am a vampire. We don't cast reflections in mirrors."

"You also don't sparkle."

"I am so glad ve agree on that point," the vampire said.

"And yet you are sparkling."

"I. DO. NOT. SPARKLE."

Violet pinched her nose. "I am sorry, sir. I know this must be very distressing, but you are, in fact, sparkling. It's rather obvious, in fact. I wager that, were you to cast open the blinds, you would be outright dazzling. Blinding, even."

Count Radu snarled. "Lies! I do not sparkle! I am not dazzling. And if I thrust open the blinds, I vould not be blinding!"

"Really?" Violet asked.

"Really," Count Radu replied. He stomped over to the blinds, jerked them open, and promptly disintegrated in a puff of smoke and ash as the morning sun flooded the compartment.

Violet blinked. She blinked again. She blinked a third time. "Oops. Was he a guest? Because if he was a guest I am in such trouble."

"You are indeed in trouble," the Head Butler said from behind her. She spun just in time to see him step into the compartment from the passageway beyond. He was holding up the polishing device from the day before. "Miss Jessup, do please explain to me how this device, which you most certainly threw overboard in accordance with my instructions, made it back aboard. And while you are at it, I demand to know why this compartment, the passageway I just passed through, and every inch of you is covered in ash." Before Violet even had a chance to open her mouth, Jeeves shook his head. "No, never mind. Just clean it up and then report for grease trap cleaning duty. For the next month."

Violet sighed.


End file.
